Cold Winter – #43 of 365 Poems

When you have a kettle that does not blow
but gives out a forgotten hiss.

You search for who is in your bed
and find that you are alone.

Are all cold winters same way?
heavy, dark, forgotten and alone?
Or may be it is all the opposite.
Because they say, you don’t know what is outside.
You only feel it inside and that too
an inverted image on your retina…